creepypastafandomcom-20200222-history
Skin Face
I'm writing here to warn you. God knows, I don't want this thing to befall anyone else. Lemme start off on this note: I don't go around and intentionally hang around creepy grave sites nor do I go into dark woods at night. I'm not one of those dumb asses who go around on those ghost hunter shows. I actually have some iota of sense, or I like to think so. Recently I'd been watching some Creepypasta videos, those scary stories that you find online? Now i'll admit that I'm a little paranoid, a bit too paranoid for my own good sometimes. I was falling asleep on a Sunday night, my television had been having some troubles. It'd randomly flicker shades: Brighter, then darker, then brighter before the screen goes black. Audio still comes out, but you can't see anything. My dad came in, angrily screwed with the wires and said "Fuck it, we'll deal with it tomorrow. Get some sleep. G'night." and he walked out, and into his room. I fiddled with my Kindle Fire a bit before I went to sleep, watching some Let's Play videos and listening to some music. As I began to fall asleep, I glanced at the window. And I thought, for a moment, I saw out the window a figure standing under a lamp. He was holding something, I could not discern exactly what it was, but it was oblong in shape and very long, about as long as a ruler. I tried to look away but my attention always returned to the window. Looking at my shut-down computer screen, or listening to my television which was malfunctioning, it didn't matter, my eyes always came back to the window. To the man. And it seemed as though he was approaching the fence, which had some sizable gaps in it. I got up and closed the curtains so that I wouldn't be concerned. Besides, if he broke in, he'd have to get in through the window: All the doors in the house were locked. And if I had to fight, I had a sword on top of my bookshelf, given to me by my grandparents, a new sword. I turned back to the window, got back into my bed and stared up at the ceiling, but my ears didn't stop paying attention to the window. They never left it, they heard what sounded to me like heavy, metal-shod boots treading on the grass. I swear I could have heard what sounded like metal sliding opposite to leather. My mind distanced itself as far away as possible from the sounds as possible. I was piss-scared but I did everything I could to forget. I told myself: Yes, I'll fall asleep. If it comes through the window or breaks down a door, I'll hear it. I wandered off to sleep and the next morning I went through my morning routine: Wake up, watch TV, Brush teeth, put on deodorant, get clothed. But an image kept coming to my mind: A stark, greasy copper face with sharp teeth. But my groggy mind dismissed this vivid image as a byproduct of over-dreaming. But one thing I noticed was that I was forgetting things more than usual. At least I was able to retrieve them before going out to the car where my dad escorted me to school. My day went on as expected, boring friends, boring teachers (Except for my Spanish teacher who actually makes an attempt at teaching) I was about to walk back outside when I realized that I had forgotten my backpack in my math class. I went back and went in, looking and scouring for my backpack. It had all of my school materials inside it. But it wasn't at my desk where I knew, if anywhere, it would be. "Shit." I muttered to myself. "Shit, Shit, Shit, where is it." I sure as hell wasn't about to go back to my dad without my backpack, because he got pissed easily about me losing things. I was swearing under my breath that I barely noticed the door slam hard, with effort like someone was intending to jam the door. I turned to it and was greeted, face to face, with a horrid, Sharp-toothed,Copper-faced man. The face didn't seem real, like it was a patchwork mask. He let loose two deep, gravelly words as he brought a long, metal cudgel out of his belt which seemed to be made out of some kind of hairy, skin like material. "Hey boy." I was frozen in fear, and then scared to action. I attempted to slam my fist into his stomach, and use my other hand to try and gouge out his eyes. On both accounts, I failed and I felt an intense pain as he moved his cudgel rapidly towards the other hand, which was trying to gouge his eyes. It felt like a piece of paper divided my hand from my arm and I felt nothing for a moment. But then, intense pain, like three elephants had just sat on my wrist. My left hand was gone, I screamed in intense pain, and then, blackness. When I awoke, it was pitch black. I felt around with my right hand. It was a car trunk and I looked to my right and, to my horror, I felt bones, large human bones, chunks of skin, organs, in what felt like a large fish net, what you'd use to catch multitudes of trout. It was so grotesque I actually puked, the warm puke matching the texture of the horrid amount of gore to my right. I trembled with fear. There had been missing women in my area earlier this week and they were still searching, needless to say, after my experience, wasn't exactly a mystery. I remembered a tip I learned off the internet: Kick out the back lights and wave your arm out. Of course, I had an idea to modify this plan. I began kicking with all of my might against the back left light, felt it shatter and the glass run against my legs but my adrenaline was like a surging river, I was determined to get out here. I started waving my hand first, seeing it light up through the light of the other light, and I tried my best to open the trunk, hoping it'd be open. For the first time that day, I found some luck. The trunk was flinging open, the air rushing into the stale atmosphere of the trunk. As he saw police cars coming, he stopped and started turning: This was my moment. I quickly hurled myself out of the trunk with as much force as I could. I rolled myself out of the way as the car stopped, refusing to pursue him through the treacherous woods. As I came home to my mother, I had to tell her why my left hand was missing, why I came home late, but my father, whom I expected to be angry was oddly, satisfied. As I fell asleep that night, my television finally working, I felt some relief that I was safe. But that man's still on the loose. Category:Monsters